


Star Forest

by Bit0Mess



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Afterlife, Dark Forest, Gen, Implied Deaths, StarClan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bit0Mess/pseuds/Bit0Mess
Summary: There's Heaven and Hell, and then there's Limbo. There's Starclan, The Dark Forest, and then there's Star Forest. An in between.
Kudos: 13





	Star Forest

There is Starclan, where all good cats go. The greatest tell prophecies- ancient ones, there before the stars and moon and land existed. They fulfil their own prophecies, told or not, and go on to share to the younger living cats. Then there is the Dark Forest, where the evil cats go. Where cats have clawed and kill and cursed Starclan to get in power, and still do in death. Unredeemable, nasty cats. They get to stay in neverending woods, meant to drive them crazy as they're alone with their guilt. And for most have.

Then there's the Star Forest, a middle part. For cats who were both. It's on the far, far side side of the Dark Forest, too far away from Starclan for them to slip back into a place they just barely don't deserve without going endless days and nights trekking through a place they just barely don't deserve.

The cats in the Star Forest are.. an odd bunch. They never disappear, unless it's to get reborn. There's technically two clans, but borders still don't exist. They live on the edge of starving- never enough to fill their body to the fullest, and enough to not grow thin and ragged. 

There's the oak side, for cats who cursed upon Starclan until their dying days, but came around. They never killed anyone, at least who didn't deserve it, but filled their days with blasphemy. They live in thorny woods that catch their paws and make them trip before most catches, punishing them for the fact that they were so careless they were here in the first place. Knowing but not believing, not trusting. And that is the after life they live. Knowing the prey and thorns are there but not trusting enough to go through with any movement.

At last there's the pine side, cats who believed and trusted Starclan, only to scorn them at the last minute. Whether it be because they blamed Starclan for their own death or their kits or whoever they felt, they blamed Starclan for an unstoppable force and now live in dark, stretching pines. Pines where they can strain and see stars, covered densely by pine needles. They could try to see the clear sky again, but never on purpose. They put too strongly into fate and cursed them when it didn't go their way, and only trusting that fate again would let them see the clear skies they yearn for.

Star Forest is usually in dusk. The sun far off, the moon just coming up. Stars, coming out. Creeping but never truly there. It's never fully night- they never get to see the clear silver pelt and moon after hating it so much and loving it all the same. It does become day, though, sometimes. Whenever something happens back down in the clans- a leader take their last breath, a prophecy told or fulfilled, journeying cats sent away from their homes- they know. They celebrate the clans they left and celebrate their trust and honor in moving forward. They all meet up, usually being able to fill their bellies for once, and prance in the sun they've never fully felt the warmth from. They watch it set again, settling down and resting on the horizon and promising that next time, they won't be so foolish. Next time, they next time they can live again, they'll make sure to not end up so far away from Starclan again.

Not because they follow the crowd, not because they miss any of their friends (but they do. Of course they do) but because of the weight pushing their shoulders down- of the 'not good enough' they reached. Not exactly bad, not exactly good. So, so close to either. They'd rather be driven insane by themselves than wait for it to creep slowly on by. So they celebrate the sun, the fleeting moments of warmth in eternal 'almost.' Almost good or bad. Almost day or night. Almost full or starving. Almost Newleaf or Leafbare. Almost dead or living.

They wait, they wish, they promise to never return. And one day- some day- their wish is granted. Their promise is fulfilled. They've served their punishment and can go on, another life they celebrate the sun and watch the silverpelt they've missed for so, so long. And they become a part of it in the end.


End file.
